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Always at the cinemaTue, 18 Dec 2018 11:39:36 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=5.0.1http://filmysasi.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/cropped-NEW-LOGO-ICON-150x150.pngFilmy Sasihttp://filmysasi.com
3232“Odiyan” destroys a captivating subject to become an endless assault to senses…http://filmysasi.com/odiyan-film-review/
http://filmysasi.com/odiyan-film-review/#respondFri, 14 Dec 2018 22:30:11 +0000http://filmysasi.com/?p=5965If you have your roots in Kerala, India, chances are high that you have heard (or overheard from adults) about...

]]>If you have your roots in Kerala, India, chances are high that you have heard (or overheard from adults) about the myth of the Odiyan clan. The peculiar tribe of black magicians were said to be notorious for their nocturnal attacks and generally eerie presence in Kerala countryside. When director V. A. Shrikumar Menon announced Odiyan with Mohanlal in the titular role, the desire was to see our favourite actor transform into the mythical human that we learnt from our grandparents with trembling fingers. To set things straight, the subject contained oodles of organic suspense and it naturally called for fantasy elements given the rumoured superhuman abilities of the odiyans. Penned by Harikrishnan, Odiyan turns out an antithesis of everything – of the legendary tribe, of Mohanlal (finally) doing a credible film and also of our great expectations.

Narrated in needlessly convoluted and shabbily edited flashbacks, Odiyan gives you reasons to jar right from the very first act. For starters, the film runs close to three excruciating hours. Nevertheless, for all the admiration that we have for its subject matter, one tends to hunt for positive crumbs in what builds up to be an enormous chaos. First up, it is a delight to see Mohanlal play a dalit equivalent in rural Kerala whereas the baddie Ravunni Nair (Prakash Raj, disappointing) is the upper caste elite. Disreputable for his traditional job, Odiyan Manikyan works as an outdoor help at the home of aristocrats where Prabha (a pitch-perfect Manju Warrier) lives with her blind sister Meenu (Sana Althaf). The nature of Manikyan’s relationship with Prabha is not revealed for a long time and when it finally does, the film had already turned into an unfathomable cringe-fest. Coming back to caste bit, Odiyan attempts to not give Manikyan many flashy dialogues on virtues, equality and morals. The film, however, remains in its starkly commercial framework where there is a pair of wrong and oppressed leads, a cardboard villain and resultant battles that are older than Mount Ararat.

Lifted almost directly from Mohanlal’s own 2006 film Chandrolsavam, the immediate plot is about the unattractive antagonist wanting to marry his murappannu (female cousin) Prabha whereas she is oblivious of his intents. The primary leg in the story is Manikyan who functions as her family guard and then comes the neighbourhood locals who act as vigilantes and caretakers of morality. Chandrolsavam, despite its cheesy dialogues and plastic demeanour, had some romantic chemistry and good music to mull over but Odiyan gets no such luck. Regarding the neighbourhood folks having autonomy over Manikyan’s immediate personal life, the film is unambiguously reminiscent of Mohanlal’s 2007 hit Naran, which was (again) high on adrenaline, somewhat watchable and also picturized in very similar backdrops. Director Menon also decides to throw a Pulimurugan déjà vu with a series of snazzily choreographed stunt sequences, filmed by the very same DOP (Shaji Kumar) and action coordinator (Peter Hein) who employ nearly the same techniques. For all the bizarre concoctions that Odiyan does, the inspired films themselves were mediocre at best.

With the abrupt cuts and continuously appalling staging of scenes, one cannot stop Menon’s amateur skills at directing a full-length feature. What startles all the more is what Odiyan is on the writing front. There’s no iota of doubt it naming it amongst the most shoddily written mainstream Malayalam films in the present decade and this is no reference to the hype around it. Writer Harikrishnan employs every cliché possible giving the ghastliest of ‘90s Bollywood kitsch a run for their bucks. It is deeply worrying that actors of Mohanlal and Warrier’s calibre could greenlight the material on papers. Be it with inappropriately casteist and racist jibes, a needless political dig, normalized moral policing, female leads sans agency, an unempathetic portrayal of the specially-abled, symbolizing sex workers to rip a male character off his certificate of good conduct – the film is infuriating in countless ways. Odiyan feels so primitive that one wishes the makers remained in the pre-electricity era (which is a glaring factual glitch, again) so as to save us from future assault to senses.

Akin to the film, let me allow this review to form a confusing non-linear trajectory. So, after a series of allegations around certain mysterious deaths, Manikyan zooms off to Banaras where he could invest in some of the most hideous wigs and beards to have seen in the history of Malayalam cinema. His attire is overdone to levels of local fancy dress contests and the relentless third-party references to him are evocative of the unintentionally hilarious Mooppan from Pulimurugan. Unfortunately, it is the industry’s other stalwart Mammootty who decides to turn into one of the many Mooppan equivalents here. In Banaras, Manikyan accidentally saves an acquaintance (Sreejaya) whose untieable saree is certain to give advertising goals to Fevi Kwik. She drops a series of truth bombs and our man lands back in his hometown. I wondered what might have been his mode of transport. It is tough to imagine this dreadly looking being queue up for a train ticket, I swear.

Back in Thenkurissi, Odiyan orchestrates his revenge plan against Ravunni Nair. (Meanwhile, I felt furious over the writer’s incapacity to – at least – come up with a creative name for this man who is the most generic cinema villain ever.) Manikyan’s plan is so flat-out predictable that you wouldn’t miss a single plot point even if you exit the auditorium for a cool thirty minutes. Menon, for the records, is a filmmaker with zilch knowledge of time, environment, era or even general awareness about how Kerala’s society evolved over the years. In Odiyan, in the same time frame, we encounter different degrees of development. The showy costumes, the markedly appalling production design and the natural locations that pointedly fail to bring in a much-needed air of mystique, Odiyan struggles to make sense visually. Shaji’s cinematography is crackling in places but notably indulgent at the most unfitting of places. For instance, the love song is gorgeously lit and coloured with some minimal and classy VFX in place but the whole episode shows up sans any coherence whatsoever.

Odiyan also gets its time game royally messed up. Certain characters refuse to age (Manoj Joshi as Odiyan Senior) and some over-ages (Mohanlal as Odiyan Manikyan) in the same time duration. The film takes a time leap of 15 years when Manikyan decides to move to Banaras and again certain crucial characters show amusing age incongruences. Prabha’s nephew who ought to be 15 in that very period is at most eight. Where did half of his lifetime vanish?

The saving grace – as is the case with numerous of his recent films – is Mohanlal himself who seems earnest to the hilt. We will also sense an air of delusion where it is clear that the actor believes in the bizarrely unoriginal film that Odiyan is. It left me dumbfounded for a fact that he is the same actor who gave us classics namely, Sadayam, Thoovanathumbikal, Vanaprastham, Guru, Nadodikattu and Thazhvaram among three dozen others. One that looks like a definitive case of a smartly pitched project, one cannot find fault in Menon’s confidence. He is an ad-man, after all. I could only Mohanlal for this monumental fall from grace. What must have gone wrong for this insanely talented actor? Wrong confidantes, terrible advisors or general misapprehension of what contemporary cinema is? Wish Mohanlal (‘Lalettan’ to a generation of Malayalam film lovers) introspects before it’s too late.

Rating: ★ 1/2 (1.5 out of 5)

]]>http://filmysasi.com/odiyan-film-review/feed/0“Aquaman” makes serious waves with visuals but is distinctly over-the-top!http://filmysasi.com/aquaman-film-review-india/
http://filmysasi.com/aquaman-film-review-india/#respondThu, 13 Dec 2018 22:59:57 +0000http://filmysasi.com/?p=5944'Aquaman' is not the most refined action-adventures you would see in this day and age but one can’t deny the entertainment quotient that it packs along.

]]>An undersea adventure from the DC Extended Universe (DCEU) which plans to give an identity to one of its less celebrated heroes. For a film that assertively advertises in that fashion, it is natural to develop curiosity on whether the comic universe will deliver this holiday season after a string of debacles. That said, what intrigued me the most was on how the makers were going to push the envelope with their visual language. First up, there’s a story that is abundant with water and elements of the oceans. Besides there’s the cutting-edge CGI from recent cinema that the already dicey superhero film has to match up to. Well, Aquaman makes all the right waves in becoming a sensory extravaganza even though it unsurprisingly falters on several crucial fronts.

Narrated in a linear fashion, Aquaman opens with the protagonist Arthur (Jason Momoa) introducing his parents who seem to have taken all Hollywood rom-com mush for real. Arthur’s mother Atlanna (Nicole Kidman) is a queen from an underwater kingdom called Atlantis and is rescued by his lighthouse operator dad, Tom (Temuera Morrison). Two happy moments later, we spot the baby Arthur in their living room. Knock, knock: Mumma Curry got to return to her kingdom as her tyrant father sends a pack of bizarre-looking aquatic goons. Now almost like a storm and tad too early in the scheme of things, the fiercely beefed up and for-a-while aloof adult Arthur (Momoa) shows up and is seen rescuing a group from two evil pirates. An excuse of a diversion to have an option when the chief antagonist is away, the subplot is never as engaging as the central story.

Aquaman picks up significantly when Princess Mera (Amber Heard) lands him up at the resplendent aquatic kingdom of Atlantis which partly belongs to him. Arthur’s encounters with his step-sibling and rival for the throne King Orm (Patrick Wilson) happens in no time and we get to witness one dazzling spectacle after the other – something which none of us saw coming until then.

Decidedly high on kitsch, Aquaman strives hard to render its superhero lead with all characteristic traits. Come to think of it, Arthur Curry can quite easily be a laughing stock if not projected with care. With his interracial origins, somewhat loony existence and almost no distinct characteristic, the writers steer clear adding elements of humour in his immediate character design. Momoa’s towering persona is put to perfect use in creating a larger-than-life prototype that can easily be bracketed as a bona fide superhero albeit belonging to a different medium – the ocean. That said, Aquaman is also quite plot-heavy with an assemblage of characters appearing in quick succession with subplots losing relevance from time to time. Therefore, it does not come as a surprise when the film runs for over two hours and 20 minutes, making it severely lengthy for the story it wants to say.

And boy, the immediate storyline encompasses a sum total of zero surprises. There is the time-tested family unit that stands challenged, the ladylove who is nearly (underscore this word) as good as the man himself, a royal kingdom, a vizier and an antagonist who defines all things evil. Aquaman bears the most foreseeable arcs a la the most commonplace adventure video games or akin to the ’80s Indiana Jones romps. Arthur and Mena travel from one kingdom to other conquering creatures and upping levels like every game character ever. With the sole twist in the tale being the one involving the mother, Aquaman thrives solely on the magic of its scintillating amalgam of cinematography, editing and CGI.

The camera (DOP: Don Burgess) flows with such fluidity (no puns intended) that the viewers become participants rather than spectators in what looks like a life-like unfolding of events. The frame selection, as well as the pacing, is such that we seldom notice the transitions or how the terrain changes from land to water. The final act, in particular, is a no-holds-barred splendour as it announces from the rooftop that Aquaman knows no word as minimalism. The climactic sequence is filled with gazillion creatures and intricate sea elements and the DOP-CGI-editor trio ought to be applauded for getting each of them ample screen space along with the central characters. Aquaman will quite easily be an artist’s delight as it will be of great interest to young children given the thunderous hero’s journey that the film chronicles.

The romantic liaison between Arthur and Mera looks tawdry even by commercial cinema standards but somewhere we do know why the angle gets its share of emphasis. The film is also adamant on imparting closures as seen in its tame, conventional screenplay design. The mother’s character – despite being melodramatic in her own way – is quite a win and can also be credited to Kidman’s spontaneous ability to make anything work. Momoa fits the bill perfectly as Aquaman but one wishes if his face had the kind of imprint as his bulky frame. In the process, he fails to lend believability to Arthur, the person, as opposed to his superhero avatar which he performs with dexterity. Therefore, even though one observes the characterization bearing a slight resemblance to the King Arthur folklore, it is difficult – for a large part of the film’s runtime – to disassociate from Momoa’s physicality and delve deep into his feelings.

Aquaman, at best, ends up as one of the better DC fares even though it lacks the zing of 2017’s Wonder Woman. It is not the most refined action-adventures you would see in this day and age but one can’t deny the entertainment quotient that it packs along. The writing and the scale are undeniably over-the-top with every screen element screaming in the loudest of their voices for their share of claps and hoots. I believe, playing to the gallery is no crime. Or is it by the standards set by this genre of cinema already? Go figure!

]]>There is something obviously timely about Spiderman: Into The Spiderverse’s release date. Stan Lee’s demise is something that Marvel fans are yet to fully mourn over and here comes a film that is (almost) the perfect swansong for the gentleman. No, I am not trying to balance Spiderman’s perennial likability to Lee’s hard-earned goodwill but it needs to be commended on how spectacular a product the film is in its own merit. And yes, it is nearly unexpected!

Directed by Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey and Rodney Rothman, Spiderman: Into The Spiderverse does not let you groan “yet again” as it brings to us a mint-fresh gang of Spideys from other dimensions (well, universes) joining our next door superhero, Peter Parker. The spotlight this time is on the coming-of-age of New York City’s brand new Spider-Man, Miles (voiced by Shameik Moore). A teenager of African-American and Puerto Rican origins (talk about inclusiveness), Miles is lodged by his policeman father in a boarding school meant for gifted children. As expected from any one of his clan, the cop dad is no fan of Spider-Man’s shenanigans. Bearing obvious Marvel hero traits, Miles himself wants to live a childhood that is as normal as possible but only until destiny strikes him hard. He gets bitten by a radioactive spider while chilling with favourite Uncle Aaron (Mahershala Ali) and the rest is everything that we had got our tickets for.

The baddie, this time around, is Kingpin (Liev Schreiber) – the man behind Super Collider, a gizmo that can destroy the world (of course!). We also get to see Spidey Sr, Peter Parker (Jake Johnson) who dies (yet again) but the death isn’t as teary as you might think it would be. Into The Spider-Verse trails off successfully on the insanely engaging communion that the aforementioned gang of Spideys develop. With Miles in the forefront, the character build-ups and the subsequent parts that they play in an otherwise well-acquainted scheme of things is fascinating to say the least. One must also applaud the story (Phil Lord) of Into The Spider-Verse, which is far from pedestrian and one can see how it singularly stands out despite all the technology blitzkrieg all over. You see a teenager dabbling with identity issues, an ageing Peter Parker with complexes and a paunch along with a clique of villains that is seldom high on decibels (read Thanos).

Whilst the format is that of animation (more to that later), the director trio do not rob the Spiderman brand off its characteristic quirks. In fact, Into The Spider-Verse feels slightly more adult-friendly as opposed to several of its predecessors including the incessantly tacky The Amazing Spider-Man 2. The story is sprinkled with the usual dash of family values whilst a couple of mature (not obscene) jokes in places didn’t hurt at all. Plus, the film characterizes Peter Parker to a T as it dexterously unveils his vulnerabilities. The guy-next-door charm in him is still intact whilst making him appear commanding enough for Miles to see a mentor in him. Equally pleasing is Uncle Aaron lending a small yet highly emotional contribution to the film with the episode refusing to set in any sort of soppiness that one would fear of. One must hand it to editors who indeed knew their ‘responsibility’ dealing with this premise that contains great ‘power’.

Innovation is also a key in making Spiderman: Into The Spider-Verse an unexpected delight. Who expects a Spidey world-saving saga to have psychedelic influences in its animation design? The blend between computer graphics and hand-drawn comic book cartoon is topnotch and it is certain to fill with our hearts with heavy nostalgia, if not great awe for the writers and artists.

Purely in terms of what one expects from a template that is ever-so-familiar, Spiderman: Into The Spider-Verse is dew-fresh and insanely exciting for the most part of its run-time. However, the pace slackens significantly in the third act which is more because the writers (Phil Lord, Rodney Rothman) meander until they find a way to empower the self-doubting Miles. Arguably the best-animated feature film to come out of Hollywood in 2018 (no, I am not that big a fan of Isle of Dogs), the latest Marvel hero chronicle is bound to be a rage this holiday season. And not to mention that oh-so-adorable cameo by Lee which made every audience member let out a silent ‘aww’. What more do you need from a sweeping superhero flick which touches several new chords despite umpteen default tropes in place?

Rating: ★★★ 1/2

P.S.: There is also a post-credit surprise which isn’t as crackling as the recent wins from Marvel but, hell, it’s bloody darn cute!

]]>http://filmysasi.com/spiderman-into-the-spider-verse-india-film-review/feed/0“Burning” is a brooding mystery that seeks answers in a maze of metaphors…http://filmysasi.com/burning-beoing-film-review-india/
http://filmysasi.com/burning-beoing-film-review-india/#respondMon, 10 Dec 2018 11:52:44 +0000http://filmysasi.com/?p=5860Director Lee Chang-dong’s Burning is one film that cannot be pinned down to a specific genre. The film lazily kicks off as...

]]>Director Lee Chang-dong’s Burning is one film that cannot be pinned down to a specific genre. The film lazily kicks off as an existential drama where two loners come in close contact, all by chance. Jong-soo (Yoo Ah-in) and Ha-emi (Jeon Jong-seo) look all things perfect when they make love in her rickety apartment. There are metaphors thrown in here and there, and one day Ha-emi zooms off to Africa. Interestingly, there is a moment where she quizzes the men in her life about what the word ‘metaphor’ meant – something that Jong-soo chooses not to answer. Instead, he heads to the bathroom.

Ha-emi claims to know Jong-soo from her childhood during which the only thing he seems to have told her is that she looked very ugly. With altered looks and renewed confidence, Ha-emi is attractive enough today to have Jong-soo say yes to her dinner date offer.

The African journey is to satiate her ‘greater hunger’, says the young woman who dislikes her mundane job as a less glamorous version of what we call a cheerleader. She peels imaginary tangerines and is said to live with her cat Boil who, again, is never seen. Upon her return from the vacation, Ha-emi is accompanied by an attractive, wealthy and slightly older man called Ben (Steven Yeun). She seems to be courting him and the situation is a little hard to make sense of – for Jong-soo and for the viewers. Who is Ben? What was it that Ha-emi wanted from Jong-soo? Didn’t he mean anything to her than a brief exchange of hormones? This baffling and equally intriguing setting make way to the remaining reels of Burning, which is intoxicating with the unique ways that it blends each absurd element in the screenplay.

Based on the book ‘Barn Burning’ by Haruki Murakami, the proceedings get all the more puzzling during the trio’s subsequent meetings. Ben drives a Porsche Cayenne and Jong-soo roams in his mini truck. Class differences do not prevent Ben from paying a visit to Jong-soo’s wobbly house located alongside the North Korean border. In what is the film’s most arresting sequence, Ben also reveals to Jong-soo that his secret past-time is to set abandoned greenhouses on fire. The statement does not come out as a shocker since by now we have become used to the film’s pronounced absurdist traits. According to Ha-emi, Ben finds her ‘interesting’ which certainly does not seem to be the case as we see his unenthusiastic reaction to her over-enthusiastic demonstration of the ‘great hunger’. The scene, incidentally, is repeated in one of the later sequences. With his nattily done house and the mysterious objects in his bathroom, Ben’s characterization gives Burning the much-needed tautness. And then, one fine day, Ha-emi disappears.

Visualized predominantly from Jong-soo’s point of view, we follow his eyes with adept curiosity. Will he unravel the mystery around Ben? Will he find out the truth about Ha-emi’s disappearance? The screenplay aside, Chang-dong’s filmmaking style is markedly gloomy. The significant events unfold mostly towards the dusk or later. The mystery in the writing is amplified pointedly by the manner with which the editors (Kim Hyeon, Kim Da-won) intersect the incidents. Be it Jong-soo’s constant search for the burnt greenhouses or him following Ben to a lonely hill top, the frames chosen (and their respective durations) are spot-on.

It is also evident how Chang-dong is in no mood for closures. There are several occurrences that puzzle us – the crank telephone calls, the absence of the cat, the references to the well, Ben’s lifestyle – most of which do not end up finding concrete meanings in conventional cinematic sense. Burning catches on a definite whodunit tenor towards the latter reels but Chang-dong doesn’t let the film be just that. In fact, a conventional culmination would have sworn the film off a good amount of its enigma.

One subplot that didn’t appeal much to me was the one involving Jong-soo’s father. The angle, for some reason, lay vastly disconnected from the central plot and whenever Chang-dong’s narrative deviates to the courtroom proceedings, the film disassociates itself from the tension around Jong-soo’s love life. It also contributes little in revealing a thing or two about Jong-soo’s psychology or his upbringing in general.

Nevertheless, Burning is one film (or literary work, for that matter) which would fascinate every writer. The Faulkner references had me in a state of semi-awe, I must confess. Jong-soo is a wannabe author who is yet to make up his mind on what to write about. One side of Ben’s inquisitiveness for Jong-soo lies in the latter’s intentions to write. Ben suggests how Jong-soo should know his story. Perhaps the story that Jong-soo sought to write about bore fewer allegories than the incidents around him. Jong-soo sought closures whilst the film didn’t. Nothing else explains the film’s enormously satisfying yet almost sudden ending. That is one point where Burning leaves no room for ambiguities. And there couldn’t have been a more apt ending, I reckon.

]]>http://filmysasi.com/burning-beoing-film-review-india/feed/0“Kedarnath”… When the love story is a bigger catastrophe than the actual one!http://filmysasi.com/kedarnath-film-review-india/
http://filmysasi.com/kedarnath-film-review-india/#respondSat, 08 Dec 2018 05:57:48 +0000http://filmysasi.com/?p=5811Abhishek Kapoor’s Kedarnath begins with a circular shot. Staged at what looks like the entrance to the famous pilgrim town...

Abhishek Kapoor’s Kedarnath begins with a circular shot. Staged at what looks like the entrance to the famous pilgrim town by the same name, the shot pans across a water body, a building structure and then to a traveller who is reluctant to take the journey uphill. The angles change in a jiffy and the leading man Mansoor (Sushant Singh Rajput) is introduced. He is a porter and also a practising Muslim with his do-gooder halo refusing to vanish. There is a generic exchange of communal banter which is no surprise coming from a film that (for no particular reason) intends to spread the message of unity. Yet, what intrigued or rather worried me is the style of cinematography (Tushar Kanti Ray). I wondered if it was going to be a dizziness-inducing spectacle where everything was to be shot from a high angle, with the picture postcard-like location captured and coloured to perfection. Well, that is not the case. However, the camera simply refuses to be still. It is forever in some kind of motion (or at least it is made to appear so). The lovers want to fall in love but the camera’s obsession for movement does not let them even look into each other’s eyes. More to it later.

Talking about the premise of Kedarnath, here is a film that badly wants to be a Romeo and Juliet. Or at least a Laila Majnu with the protagonists having greater callings to attend. Now, what do you call a love story that treats ‘love’ as a stepchild? The story in here is that of Mansoor and Mandakini aka Mukku (Sara Ali Khan) who belong to different religions (she is Hindu). The conflicts are set by default and it is as if the writers (Kanika Dhillon and Abhishek Kapoor) want the leads to fall in love – more than the characters themselves. I mean, keep aside the odd and clichéd meet cute where the couple watches an India-Pakistan cricket match on television, there is barely a reason why they would show familiarity to each other. I can’t stop not pinpointing the absolutely uninspiring way that the writers sketch Mandakini’s character. It is several notches down from Dhillon’s own female character in Manmarziyaan, which in itself was far from being a well-fleshed out one. Mukku is that girl who is a firebrand at home, loves cricket, talks rudely to elders, resists forced relationships and is generally loud – basically, all things Bollywood with a definite air of déjà vu. It is just that character design gets irksome and uncreative when she does things like, say, pricking Mansoor’s hands when something unfavourable happens in the match. You know, Kedarnath belongs to that stratosphere of Bollywood romances. Also, the plot bears an uncanny resemblance to – wait for it – Titanic but only with less charming protagonists living in a more exotic landscape.

Well, if you ask me, the film does not use its environment to good advantage either. Come to think of it, you have two conventionally good-looking people and a picturesque backdrop. What more do you need to let a love story bloom, in a ridiculously commercial sense? Not even a tumultuous story, I say. Perhaps a couple of scenes where they could intercut the couple looking into each other’s eyes, followed by a tranquil shot or two (or three) of the valleys, mountains and the likes with the soothing sound of flowing streams in the background – I can sense romance everywhere. You don’t need to tell me who Mansoor and Mukku are, what religions they follow, their social status or add absurd song situations that are way out of context. Instead, Kedarnath wastes pages (much like this review) to come to a point that was already established – lovers belonging to different religions cannot legitimate their relationship. So, let us cut some slack and believe that this some sort of a bizarre cinematic liberty that the film wants to employ. Still, what happens next is even more baffling. Mansoor is either under-expressing or over-expressing his feelings for everything around – be it love, religion, regional identity and so on. Mukku eventually turns into a morose being who looks at her lover being thrashed into pulp and blurts out annoying things on the lines of, “If he can’t survive this then how will he endure what lies ahead?” I do understand the intoxication that love brings in but, wait, I didn’t see any fire brewing between the two at any point. What did I miss?

Kedarnath is not the Before Trilogy. You cannot parade up and down a hill, talking about irrelevant things and expect sparks to fly – which is precisely what director Kapoor wants to sell. If I remember, all I took note of was Mukku’s way of eating Maggi Noodles and that she was impeccably dressed throughout in colourful clothes and ornate umbrellas. She is supposedly travelling to her dukaan (a local boutique) but we see none. (Wait, was it a metaphor that nobody could decipher?). Mukku is also a sheltered (and shamelessly commoditized) 19-year old but her parents do not seem to care much post their introduction scene. Mukku is no Veera from Highway either despite a peculiar situation at home. Kedarnath is at best a strange experiment on how not to milk the talent of its luminous female lead (Khan). Instead of mirroring her winsome presence, the film chooses to expose her rawness and weaknesses to the T. I agree that she has been photographed exceedingly well with all the right shadows and soft lights but what to make out of a film that believes it is India’s answer to The Shape of Water?

Kedarnath ends, predictably, with a natural calamity. While it is an overwhelming visual experience with some half-decent VFX, none of it saves the film from drowning into a mud pool of pointlessness, much like its listless supporting cast and bit players during the floods. The leading man Mansoor’s character arc reminded me of Moideen from RS Vimal’s Malayalam romantic drama, Ennu Ninte Moideen which emerged from a similar emotional space. Though not fully satisfying, that film could – at least – convince us that its estranged lovers were passionately in love. As for Kedarnath, before we could begin to take Mansoor and Mukku seriously, all the logic gets washed away and this is cannot be blamed upon the penultimate (and literal) watershed moment.

]]>http://filmysasi.com/kedarnath-film-review-india/feed/0“Pause” represents a generation of women and their silent agony…http://filmysasi.com/pause-india-film-review/
http://filmysasi.com/pause-india-film-review/#respondTue, 04 Dec 2018 18:07:35 +0000http://filmysasi.com/?p=5742There are times when you come across films which blow your mind with its very first act that one wishes...

]]>There are times when you come across films which blow your mind with its very first act that one wishes with all our might that it doesn’t go awry in the subsequent portions. I experienced the same with director Tonia Mishiali’s debut feature Pause(Pafsi) which speaks about the harrowing life of the middle-aged Elpida (Stella Fyrogeni).

Facing menopausal transition, Elpida is shown to consult the gynaecologist in the opening scene. The doctor lists out a series of possible symptoms and concludes how everything is still okay with her. One might wonder if the film is going to maintain this dark humour tonality but Pause chooses to pan out differently. The film takes us through the difficult and submissive life that Elpida has lived for decades with her dominating, unloving husband (Andreas Vassiliou) in a dreary apartment. Her desires get barely addressed and her freedom is crippled without an iota of sympathy. The docile wife that she is, Elpida barely resists oppression. Her combat usually comes in form of fantasy episodes in which she does impossible things as cutting off the television wire to annoy her husband or locking lips with a sexually charged neighbour on instinct. By bringing to us a series of revelatory segments as these, writer-director Mishiali exposes the real shades in Elpida’s characterization with expertise.

Also forming an important part of the story is the household’s domesticated parrot, a favourite of her husband. Forming an interesting allegory to Elpida’s state of mind, the parrot refuses to leave the house even as it gets uncaged. Another impressive metaphor is the car – her sole companion in the household – which her husband sells off sans her consent. Pause gives us enough reasons to ponder over the presence of several static objects in a narrative that sees fewer people and is also heavily dependent on its sombre mood.

The cinematography, therefore, sharply focuses on the materials in the house, letting us connect effectively with the central character’s plight. Pause is also abundant in well-calibrated low and high angle shots which remain delightfully still for a few extra seconds. The colours are even and monotonous within the house but it takes subtle turns whenever Elpida’s flamboyant neighbor, Eleftheria (Popi Avraam) pays her visits. The writer effectually contrasts Elpida’s wants to Eleftheria’s freedom and free-spiritedness. There is also a fine, impartial dose of female gaze as we see the local painter becoming an object of Elpida’s sexual desires.

Pause takes no dramatic turns as it leads to what is an immensely satisfying finale even though there are several teases that try to prepare us for a more conventional culmination. The film delivers a massive blow on the face of patriarchy without explicitly referring to it. The rebellion (or the absence of it) and the ultimate victory of the protagonist is something that gorgeously mirrors the lives of many a woman living in every corner of the world. In one of the finest cinematic experiences that I have had this year, Tonia Mishiali’s film is a staggering winner and Stella Fyrogeni’s principal performance is one for keeps.

]]>It is not always easy to look objectively at something as stark as drug abuse in the family. As is the case with screenplays of erstwhile films based on similar themes, Beautiful Boy chucks artfulness for its own good and takes a narrative trajectory that is honest and also, often, tedious and melodramatic. Chronicling the life story of author Nic Sheff (Timothée Chalamet) whose teenage days of addiction took his family through a whirlwind of despair.

In a story that spirals endlessly in the same loop, director Felix Van Groeningen attempts to raise several important questions – prominently how interpersonal relationships go for a toss when one member is afflicted with a distressing yet stigmatized condition. A writer at New York Times, David Sheff (an effective Steve Carell) addresses his son affectionately as a ‘beautiful boy’. He forges a friendly relationship with him and before he could realize, the youngster has become a slave to the worst varieties of addictive drugs. In the film’s most arresting stretch, we see Nic barge into the Sheff household with his girlfriend when his parents and siblings are absent. You see him scan through the rooms for anything of value and the youngster’s eyes fall on an emotional article about him, penned by his father. Upon sensing the family’s return, Nic flees the scene, only to be chased by his stepmom, Karen (Maura Tierney). Interspersed with distressing reaction shots of David and Karen, the sequence ends with a telling still frame where the camera zooms in on the latter’s red car.

Beautiful Boy’s despair-filled narrative is laced with an unconventional original score. It sufficiently lends atmosphere to Nic’s process of relapse and recovery switchbacks. The choice of songs is impressive as are the background sound pieces which might be a little too eccentric for a film that germinates from a commercial framework. Beautiful Boy, which is said to be a mix of the Nic and his father’s respective literary works based on the ordeal, subtly balances perspectives, as it exposes the trauma of both parties with considerable empathy. However, the brief sub-plot of Nic’s mother Vicki (Amy Ryan) is an area that I wish had been explored with a little more care. Further worrisome is the way Beautiful Boy is edited as the jumps in time creates confusion and makes the repetitive tenor of the story all the more hard to fathom. There are moments which made me wonder if the film would have been any different if the order of certain events were to be interchanged. This is also the reason why the film appears tad slightly detached throughout and also why it chooses to end in an open-ended yet poignant fashion which is enough to have our hearts go out to David and Nic.

The biggest takeaway from the film, personally, is Timothée Chalamet’s astonishing central act which is so immersive and real that you forget that the story format is that of a feature film. His body language coupled with that understated, brittle dialogue delivery, makes sure that Call Me By Your Name was no fluke and the actor is here to conquer many more horizons. One must hand a high order of credit to Chalamet for rendering authority and emotional wattage to what is a retelling of an ever-familiar and borderline bland story. The same can be said about Maura Tierney who is spellbinding as Nic’s stepmom with limited scenes in a premise that is centred on a father-son relationship.

Beautiful Boy, as a wholesome unit, didn’t excite me as much as I expected it to. The screenplay contained infinite possibilities to tug our heartstrings but only if the maker Groeningen were to devise better methods to canvas an oft-repeated story of caution and family values.

]]>While watching 2.0 I was strangely reminded of director Shankar’s enviable oeuvre that, arguably, has not evolved in the best fashion over the years. For a filmmaker who enthralled us repeatedly with a bunch of full-blown commercial masala films right from early ‘90s, it is clear how he is losing his Midas touch.

Technology was always a thing of fascination to him, we agree, but it is alarming how his recent films have advanced only to being mere spectacles. Come to think of it, we gleefully relished the VFX songs in Muthalvan and Indian. Same for the technology gimmicks in Jeans and Anniyan. Those films, however, came with solid material to qualify as riveting entertainers. In his latest film 2.0, what we endlessly miss is a plot. Emerging from the familiar story of Dr. Vaseegaran and Chitti (both played by Rajinikanth), the film employs the latter’s help in saving the nation from the menace of Pakshirajan (Akshay Kumar). The antagonist here has a rather noble intent of preventing the inhabitants of earth from usage of cellular devices and saving birds in the process. Well, this is unfortunately where the film begins as well as ends. All we get throughout its runtime is an exhausting display of its VFX artists’ proficiency in a narrative that is completely devoid of incidents, let alone a classic dose of Shankar magic.

The only episode in the film where it reasonably engages is when Shankar decides to take us on a flashback to Pakshirajan’s childhood. An orthinologist with a solid cause, the rationale behind his actions stands justified in a way that is relatable to traditional Tamil cinema lovers. Furthermore, going by the director’s penchant for vigilante cinema, one easily identifies the filmmaker’s thought process. Having said that, the way Shankar’s screenplay lets Vaseegaran orchestrate ideas to fight the antagonist’s threats is bland and repetitive. The visuals effects are so designed that it stuns you to bits even when you barely feel involved in the events that unfold. The astonishing 3D tropes eventually end up grating on your nerves.

With Shankar clearly not in his elements, it was left to the actors to make some sense out of the proceedings. Rajinikanth goes all guns blazing – literally and otherwise – in his dual role and the robot Chitti is as adorable as he was in the prequel Enthiran. Akshay Kumar gets minimal screen space but the actor does well despite heavy prosthetic makeup and an apparent discomfort over the language. Amy Jackson gets no scope whereas the supporting cast is listless all the way.

At the end of it, 2.0 ends up as a generic, uninspired film that does not utilize its resources in a way that it earns an edge over its Hollywood counterparts. The film also doesn’t work singularly from a mainstream Indian film viewer’s perspective as it is devoid of standard masala ingredients. Not that I am asking for a tried-and-tested Shankar extravaganza complete with elaborate dance numbers and a topsy-turvy screenplay but 2.0 sets in intense monotony. Well, that is not what you want out of a Rajinkanth actioner helmed by Shankar, is it?

]]>http://filmysasi.com/2-point-0-review/feed/0“Science Fair”… An insightful journey with some of the brightest young minds!http://filmysasi.com/science-fair-documentary-india-review/
http://filmysasi.com/science-fair-documentary-india-review/#respondThu, 29 Nov 2018 20:35:43 +0000http://filmysasi.com/?p=5714Science fairs at school levels excite one and all, irrespective of their scale. It is a merger of some of...

]]>Science fairs at school levels excite one and all, irrespective of their scale. It is a merger of some of the finest minds around, bubbling with ideas and a natural bent to prove one’s mettle. Given their age, the youngsters are seldom contaminated with external showiness. Failure, most certainly, hurts but it isn’t as big a blow as it might be to an adult’s egos. This is precisely the mindscape that filmmakers Cristina Costantini and Darren Foster’s film Science Fair intends to capture.

One that sees the brouhaha around an Intel-powered international science fair through the lens of a bunch of bright teenagers, Science Fair takes you a journey that is fulfilling and filled with interesting revelations. If you ever thought it is hard to gauge a teenager’s (a talented one, at that) emotions towards something that he/she roots for, then Science Fair can teach you a word or two. It is compelling and thought-provoking as it lets the subjects speak about their aspirations, worries and immediate challenges despite coming from different cultural and linguistic backgrounds. There are moments where they expose things that are worthy of larger conversations in all their innocence and wide-eyed ambitions.

If Anjali’s forthrightness cannot be cut off with a single failure, it is a glorious neglect from her school authorities that worries Kashfia. If it’s a childhood dream taking shape for Ivo, Myllena and Gabriel are making inroads to the mainstream from their poor lineages. It is the unabashed purity in their ways that warms us to their goals and dreams. The film’s opening scene where an all-elated freshman expresses what is the most organic response to a science fair victory sets the tone for us.

Costantini and Foster design the narrative with enough twists, turns and humour ensuring that we are hooked until the final reveal – the big win. Sometimes you do feel an absence of an external perspective. I had wished for instances where their fellow batch-mates or a few less smitten parents could talk about these science prodigies and what they felt for them. How many of them would be billed straightaway as a nerd with zilch know-how of the world? A few like Anjali seem increasingly aware of themselves and also of the world around them. A few of them, in contrast, do not appear to be. The film also chooses not to converse much once the ISEF fair is done. We do feel bad – especially for Myllena and Gabriel – for the fact that their story has great possibilities of drama in it. Even otherwise, these children, irrespective of their propensity for science are interesting, unique individuals with well-tuned identities of their own. The innocence, anyhow, is the icing on the cake. Additionally, it is impressive to see Science Fair evolve in a way that it is a positive sell-out to all concerned. Many ill-informed schools and teachers, for instance, can take a leaf off Kashfia’s story because the future, most certainly, lies with research-oriented and unadulterated minds as the ones we see in the film.

]]>http://filmysasi.com/science-fair-documentary-india-review/feed/0“Colette” recounts the coming-of-age of a literary icon and early feminist…http://filmysasi.com/colette-india-film-review/
http://filmysasi.com/colette-india-film-review/#respondThu, 29 Nov 2018 07:50:43 +0000http://filmysasi.com/?p=5705There is something incessantly captivating about the whole thought that before the blitzkrieg of feminism in our society, there lived...

]]>There is something incessantly captivating about the whole thought that before the blitzkrieg of feminism in our society, there lived a woman called Colette in the early twentieth century. One who is an amalgam of beautiful contradictions, Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette (played by Keira Knightley) is a woman of autonomy. She lets her husband Henry “Willy” Gauthier-Villars control her movements but only to the extent that she wanted him to. Directed by Wash Westmoreland, Colette chronicles the volatile early life of the iconic woman who had seen it all by the time she turned 30.

Often pictured as a portrait of countryside quaintness, Gabrielle’s Burgundian childhood bred enough juice for an exotic story – on and off the pages meant for public consumption. The lissome lass marries the 14-year elder Willy (Dominic West) who is a bourgeois writer based in Paris. Concealing Willy’s mediocrity was his capricious persona, extravagant lifestyle and manipulative methods to stay relevant. When bankruptcy hits him hard, Willy orders his wife that she writes. One with a natural penchant for the pen, Colette leisurely takes up the challenge and creates a character that goes on to become a household name in France – Claudine. This is despite facing brutal rejection from her haughty husband in the past with regards to her ability to engage a reader.

“I am the real Claudine,” claimed many a Parisian woman, much to Willy and Colette’s glee. Long before entities from literature and cinema could become pronounced brands by themselves, there she was on every makeup box, cigar tray, bathing soap and folding fan. The difference lay in how Claudine had varying meanings for its creators. For Willy, she was a ‘goose’ while for Colette it was their child, or at least hers. It is only after she faces severe disappointment from her man over the same that she leaves him for good.

From what the screenplay (Wash Westmoreland, Rebecca Lenkiewicz, Richard Glatzer) wants us to believe, Willy comes across as an egoistic megalomaniac for whom power equations meant a lot more than relationships of merit. As individuals who contrasted in belief systems, Colette could subscribe to Willy’s ways with a nonchalant air of denial, which was also a sign of compliance that came purely by choice. Willy, on his part, encourages Colette’s transitory affairs with other women, with an eye for prospective literary material. For Willy, Colette graduated to become the goose, as opposed to Claudine. His indulgence, arrogance, aristocracy – all were patented to ideas that germinated from Colette’s mindscape. This also makes Willy a hard act to nail, which Dominic West does to precision with a conclusive air of self-assurance as he lends legitimacy to a marriage that was more of a vicious business deal.

Westmoreland’s design for the film is notably magnificent with the cinematography presenting a sumptuous visual feast. With an obsession for reflections, Giles Nuttgens shoots the film as if it were to match the vintage paintings from the era. Original score by Thomas Adès is atmospheric and adds a fine layer of drama to the proceedings that are driven prominently by high-octane exchanges, ornate costumes and production design. The dialogues are often crafted to examine the character psyches with great beauty. “I wonder if there will come a time when you must decide, are you Claudine or Colette,” asserts Gabrielle’s lover Missy (Denise Gough, acing the homosexual act in style). I was not particularly amused by the time transitions as the film in entirety represents only a short period in Colette’s expansive, eventful life.

The biggest delight from Colette, nevertheless, is a towering, unabashed lead performance by Keira Knightley who owns every frame with astute poise. Notice her disregard when she uses Willy’s repartee back at him, “The hand that holds the pen writes history.” You also perceive how acquiescent Gabrielle is to Willy’s unfair, dominating ways. Yet, Knightly walks the thin line of conviction to make us identify with a woman who took eons to call it quits. This might come as a jolt in times of ‘Me Too’. However, when you look at era and what it traditionally held for women, Gabrielle’s abstinence stands largely justified.

As the film satisfyingly ends on a high note, one wonders if it holds premise for a compelling sequel. After all, there is a lot more to Colette and what we see in the film is a precursor to what eventually went on to be a productive and momentous life. For the rest, Westmoreland’s representation of quiet rebellion and coming-of-age [also sexually] in an era of radicalism serves justice to its subject who also became a symbol of feminism, almost by accident.